Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 149

　After saying that, he strode away. Several other people silently got up and followed him out.

　In the end, fewer than ten people remained in the basement. They looked at each other, their fervor gradually replaced by despair.

　In Casaloz's dragon's lair, it is receiving a special guest—Shaving Tooth.

　"An interesting battle." Shaving, in his obese human form, sat on a stone bench, toying with a gold coin in his hand. "But what interests me more is, what are you planning to do next?"

　"First, we must consolidate our rule over Waterdeep, and then gradually establish contact with the other Atherons," Casalos carefully chose his words. "A scattered force cannot contend with a real threat."

　Shaving his teeth, he squinted. "A wise choice. But be careful, I've heard the Dragon Cult is quite active lately, and that madman Chassa certainly won't let you, this 'heretic,' get away with it."

　"I know." Casaroz's tail gently patted the ground. "And the Pokémon of Evergrande Island, they've been quite active lately too."

　"Ha, those pointy-eared ones," Shaving Teeth sneered. "An arrogant, self-important race. But seriously, if you need help, you might consider contacting some old friends. Not all dragons are as meddlesome as I am, but a few Amethyst and Emerald Dragons do have a good impression of the Iron Dragon race."

　"Thank you for your suggestion," Casalos said sincerely.

　"Don't mention it." Shaving Tooth stood up. "After all, a stable and powerful Waterdeep is good for me too. I'm not cut out to be a lord, and Waterdeep under your rule is much friendlier to me. At least I don't have to see that steel dragon brother breathing on me every day... Oh, by the way, the Northern Alliance seems quite interested in you. You might need to make some preparations."

　After seeing off Tooth Shaving, Casalos fell into deep thought. The situation on the continent of Faerûn was more complex than it had anticipated, but this would not change its resolve.

　Meanwhile, elsewhere in Waterdeep, Fionamiron was discussing a thorny issue with several young tungsten dragons.

　"The situation is more difficult than I imagined," Fiona Milon said with worry. "The elders I contacted have all completely integrated into human society. They've not only used 'shape-shifting' to change their appearance, but they're even unwilling to acknowledge their dragon identities."

　"Why is this happening?" a young tungsten dragon asked, puzzled.

　Fionamiron sighed. "Because of despair. When the Atheros began to decline, the Tungsten Dragons suffered the most. We were already very demanding of ourselves, and seeing the decline and decay of our kind, many Tungsten Dragons chose to escape. They preferred to spend the rest of their lives as humans in the Church of the Good God rather than face the reality of being dragons."

　What do you think we should do?

　Fiona Milon pondered for a moment: "I have a lead at the Church of Tyre. A paladin named 'Hand of Justice' Kahn is the tungsten dragon Samiandra, who disappeared two years ago. If we can confirm its identity, perhaps we can persuade it to return."

　"But what if it doesn't want to?"

　"Then Casalos will need to intervene personally." Fiona Milon smiled. "I am merely an ordinary young tungsten dragon, while you are a true supreme dragon... Only by showing them the true hope of the Atheros can the flames that have not yet been completely extinguished within them be awakened."

61. Trivial matters

　Casalos lay on the platform at the deepest part of the dragon's lair, toying with an ancient emblem from Vicaritura in its paws. This emblem, crafted from pure chrome and engraved with intricate dragon runes, was proof of the allegiance of the ancient chrome dragon overlord. Now, it belonged to Casalos.

　"The Supreme Dragon, huh..." It clicked its iron beak, its tail rhythmically pounding the ground behind it. "The name sounds impressive, but unfortunately, there aren't many of the Iron Dragon race left."

　The submission of a subspecies of the Ancient Dragon Lord signifies the complete legitimacy of the Old Supreme Dragon's final prophecy, and Casaloz officially ascends to become the new nominal Supreme Dragon of the Atheros. Unfortunately, the Holy Land has been destroyed, and the psychic network has completely collapsed with the fall of the Old Supreme Dragon; it still has a long way to go before it can formally ascend the throne and bear the name Garugsingo.

　The collapse of the mental network and the destruction of the Holy Lands meant that the Argentavis had lost their two most important spiritual ties. Scattered throughout Faerûn, the Argentavis were like beads on a broken string; reconnecting them would be no easy task. However, with the name of the Supreme Dragon, at least many things would be much easier…

　Just as he was pondering his next move, the voice of the bronze dragon Kenneth rang out through magical communication: "Kasa, there's some interesting news you might want to know."

　“Let’s talk in my dragon’s lair.” Casalos switched to human form to welcome Kenneth, the bronze dragon who also remained in human form.

　The dragon, dressed as a bard, was enthusiastically sharing the news he had recently gathered.

　"Ferreroth has been quite an eventful place lately," Kenneth said, taking a sip of his tea. "My club members have been sending in some pretty exciting intelligence from all over."

　"Tell me about it." Casalos leaned back in his chair, seemingly casual but actually completely focused.

　"Let me start with the most surprising thing—Santir Castle has completely changed." Kenneth put down his teacup, his expression turning serious. "A guy named Victor has become the new god of death. Have you heard of him?"

　Casalos shook his head. Victor? He had absolutely no recollection of him.

　In the original timeline, Cyric ascended to the position of the new God of Death, but became a lost dragon guarding the River Styx. The development of the timeline has begun to completely deviate from its past life's memories. The name of the new God of Death chosen by AO is not in its memory bank at all, and it is unknown whether certain individuals have been involved... Even if not, that self-proclaimed gatekeeper will probably make this new God of Death's life uneasy forever.

　“My friend witnessed that bloody purge firsthand,” Kenneth continued. “Victor’s agent, Xeno Mirrormane—a fellow who looked like a half-elf—led hundreds of fanatical followers into Santyr Castle. They searched house to house for Bane’s followers; it was a truly horrific scene.”

　"What exactly happened?"

　"Xenor gave all the Bane followers two choices: either convert to Victor on the spot, or go and explain to Victor in person why he is not worthy of worship." Kenneth's voice carried a hint of sarcasm. "Can you imagine? Those usually arrogant Bane priests kneeling in the streets, weeping and wailing, abandoning their faith. Of course, some of the tougher ones chose the second path."

　"And the result?"

　"They're all dead." Kenneth shrugged. "Apparently, the ways they died were quite creative. Some were strangled by their own shadows, some were drained of their life force and turned into mummies, and others... well, never mind, that's too disgusting, it'll ruin my appetite."

　Casalos seemed thoughtful. The radicalism of the newly ascended God of Death was expected. AO had made faith the foundation of the gods, and if a new god couldn't quickly establish its own faith base, it would soon be usurped of its divine authority, power, and position.

　"The entire Santir Fortress is now under the control of Victor's followers." Kenneth poured himself another cup of tea. "The most interesting thing is that that old fox Manson sensed something was wrong long ago. Before the purge began, he took the core members of the Dark Network and slipped away. They're said to be redeploying in Raven's Keep, waiting for Bane's return."

　"He seems quite confident," Casalos said casually.

　"Who knows?" Kenneth shrugged. "How can we mortals fathom the affairs of the gods? Speaking of infighting, the red-robed mages of Sel haven't had a moment's peace either."

　"Oh? What is it now?"

　"That old bastard, Mariga, the chief of the Shapeshifting faction, must have lost his mind. He wanted to seize power from the Chief Council," Kenneth said, his tone laced with schadenfreude. "He secretly amassed power, bribed mages from other factions, and even trained an army of shapeshifters. The plan was going smoothly until..."

　"result?"

　"They got tricked by that lich Sazarstani." Kenneth couldn't help but laugh. "It turns out Sazarstani knew about Malika's plan all along, but pretended not to know, waiting for Malika to slip up before launching his attack. The most interesting part is that half of the shapeshifters Malika trained were Sazarstani's spies!"

　Casalos couldn't help but curl the corners of his lips into a smile. The intrigue and power struggles among red-robed mages have always been a common sight on the continent of Faerûn.

　"How is Marika now?"

　"Dead." Kenneth made a throat-slitting gesture. "Stabbed in the back by his most trusted apprentice. That apprentice was actually one of Sazarist's men. Tsk tsk, this is what happens when you play dirty tricks."

　"Don't the Serbs still want to invade Lesserman?"

　"Yes! This is even more interesting." Kenneth perked up. "They amassed an army of 30,000, marching in a grand procession along the Golden Road through Sesk. They thought they could easily take Leatherman, but guess what?"

　"The witches aren't so easy to deal with."

　"It's more than just difficult to deal with!" Kenneth slapped his thigh. "The witches of Leatherman summoned a giant water elemental lord directly from the lake! That thing is three hundred meters tall, and it could wipe out an army with a single slap. The mages of the Sel army bombarded it relentlessly, but they couldn't even break its skin."

　"And then what?"

　"The Selmen slunk away," Kenneth continued, taking a sip of tea. "But before they left, they didn't forget to show off their 'gentlemanly' skills as red-robed mages—they used fireballs to burn the west shore of the lake to ashes. They say it's still smoking there now. The witches spent a whole month healing the wounds of war."

　Casalos shook his head. The Serbs' behavior was as appalling as ever.

　"And there's more interesting news," Kenneth said mysteriously, "Bruno Warhammer has abdicated!"

　"Oh?" This certainly piqued Casalos's interest.

　"He ceded the throne to Gandaren Warhammer," Kenneth explained, "the one Drizzt and his companions rescued from House Banry of Menzoberranzan four years ago. You know what's most interesting?"

　"what?"

　"Gandaren is the first king of Mithril Hall!" Kenneth's eyes gleamed. "He founded Mithril Hall, then disappeared during an adventure, and everyone thought he was dead. It turns out he was captured by the drow elves and enslaved! Now he's back, both the first and the ninth king. Even the most eloquent bard wouldn't dare write something like that."

　Casalos found it amusing. Such historical coincidences were not uncommon on the continent of Faerûn, but each time they occurred, one could only marvel at the wonder of fate.

　"The stability of Mithril Hall is crucial for the entire Sword Coast," Casalos said.

　"Indeed." Kenneth nodded. "Speaking of plans, Dragonspear Fortress is a major problem."

　"I know that." Casalos's expression turned serious. "Those demons have been eyeing the material world for a long time... They destroyed the roadside inn?"

　"It's more than just destruction," Kenneth corrected. "When my friend passed by, the roadside inns had been burned to the ground. Those damned devils had impaled all the living people on stakes; it was a horrific sight. Worse still, they're now besieging Dagger Beach."

　"What's the situation with the Deepwater Defenders?"

　"We barely managed to hold off the first wave of attacks," Kenneth replied. "Thanks to those paladins of Ilmat, the radiant power of the benevolent god is especially effective against demons. But..."

　"But what?"

　"That black dragon is a problem." Kenneth frowned. "It's said to be an ancient black dragon, incredibly cunning. It never engages in direct combat, instead hiding in the swamps and ambushing with its acidic breath—you know, Dagger Beach is completely submerged by swamps now, and several paladin squadrons have already been wiped out because of it."

　Casalos fell into deep thought. It seemed that this problem really needed to be solved as soon as possible, otherwise the railway under construction would be in danger.

　The two dragons chatted for a while about other news, including rumors and strange tales from various places. The bards' intelligence network was indeed very powerful; they could even find out gossip like the mistress of a certain town mayor being a halfling.

　After seeing Kenneth off, Casalos entered one of the most secluded corners of the dragon's lair, where a specially crafted magic circle awaited. It carefully unlocked multiple magical locks, retrieved the coded letter inside, and the first letter caused its pupils to contract sharply:

　"The situation in Quettasen has changed. The Staff-Bearer, Chassa, secretly left the palace three months ago, using an illusion to handle state affairs in place of his true self. Extensive investigations have confirmed that his true self traveled to the Astral Plane, staying for approximately three weeks. Upon his return, large numbers of descendants of evil dragons began appearing in Quettasen and the Enser region. These inhabitants, originally humans, half-elves, and even dwarves, suddenly grew dragon scales and horns, acquiring abilities similar to those of the five-colored dragon half-dragons, and carrying blasphemous power. Analysis of samples obtained through secret channels has confirmed that this is due to the sacred blood of Tiamat. Chassa must have successfully brought back the sacred blood of the five-colored dragon from the Astral Plane."

　"Even taking down Orcus didn't delay things for long. These old guys who've lived for who knows how many years are really troublesome with their schemes..." Casalos cursed under his breath. Tiamat's power had been substantially enhanced in the material plane, which was definitely not good news for it.

　The second letter details the attack on Silvermoon City:

　"Silvermoon City was subjected to an organized attack. The attackers were a lich suspected to be Samaster and four archmages of the Cult of Dragons. They used a diversionary tactic, first bombarding the city's south wall with magic to lure Lady Elasdra out of the city. Elasdra and Tyne Thundercutter joined forces to kill two of the Cult of Dragons mages, but then a dragon lich suddenly appeared inside the city, forcing Tyne to return to deal with it. Elasdra faced the lich and the remaining two archmages alone and gradually became overwhelmed. At the critical moment, Kelben Black Staff and Lyra Silverhand arrived with the Fanged Dragon Razor. Razor severely injured the lich, buying Elasdra and Kelben a chance to regroup, and the lich eventually retreated."

　Casalos sneered: Samasser can't wait to start causing trouble for his old lover, which means that the Dragon Cult is about to start preparing to unleash a continental catastrophe that is no less devastating than the Year of Turmoil... No, from the perspective of the people of Faerûn, especially the dragons, it will be a continental catastrophe that is even more destructive than the Year of Turmoil.

　The mastermind behind this disaster is ostensibly Bane's pastor and Tiamat, but in reality, Bahamut's shadow looms large. (The remaining text appears to be unrelated and possibly machine-generated gibberish.)

　Fortunately, now that the name has been officially recognized, formal diplomatic relations with the Golden Dragon Royal Court should be put on the agenda.

　Another piece of good news is that, thanks to this 'righteous act' of shaving teeth, the business cooperation between Deepwater Horizon and Silvermoon City should go much more smoothly.

　The third letter was the shortest, but the information was equally important:

　"A mysterious assassin has emerged in the Northlands, with seven assassinations confirmed. The victims include three local lords, two wealthy merchants, a member of the Harpists' Alliance, and a priest from Santil Castle named Bane. The methods were professional, all resulting in single, fatal blows. Through comparison, the killer has been identified as the Golden Elf, Kemir Nemoshin, an assassin from Evergrande. Based on his movements, his next target is likely Waterdeep. The specific target is unknown, but it is very likely related to your rule."

　Casalos burned the letters and began to formulate a response plan. He contacted Pilgrim via magical communication: "Raise the alert level; there may be assassins infiltrating. Have the half-dragon legions increase patrols, paying particular attention to unfamiliar elves or half-elves."

　"Understood." Piergellen's response was concise and forceful.

　Next, Casalos summoned Svent, the commander of the half-dragon legion: "How are the preparations for Dragonspear Castle going?"

　"Everything is ready, my lord," Svent replied respectfully. "The siege equipment is in place, and the troops are in high spirits. That black dragon is indeed cunning, but we have devised a counter-tactic."

　"Very good. Don't fawn over Bellamy and Shakales. It's just an ancient black dragon; with you two supporting them, they won't die even if they attack together. Move quickly and finish this quickly."

　After arranging military affairs, Casalos paced alone in his lair. The waters of Faerûn were growing increasingly murky. Tiamat, the Cult of Dragons, the new God of Death, the Elves of Evergrande… all factions were stirring with ambition.

　"Hmm, let me see. The top priority right now should be the collaboration with Elasdra," Casalos muttered to himself. "With Shaving Tooth's favor on our side, even if Ilminster wants to interfere, he'll have to think twice."

　Thinking of Elminster, Casalos couldn't help but laugh: "One warrior, two thieves, three priests, four sorcerers, five archmages, plus a level 20 mage. This old guy's class rankings are really a mess. From thief to mage, from Mystra's chosen one to his lover, and finally becoming the teacher of the Seven Sisters, and then having a teacher-student romance... What a disreputable womanizer." Casalos shook his head, "Now look what's happened. If I hadn't had Toothshaver keep an eye on you guys, Elasdra's life would probably be in grave danger. For the sake of the 'Sage's' reputation, let's see what reason you have to cause me trouble."

62. The Silvermoon City delegation arrives.

　A week has passed since the Battle of the Plains, and the situation in Waterdeep has become increasingly stable. After a long journey, the Silvermoon delegation arrived outside Waterdeep.

　Casalos was reviewing the intelligence that Charles had just sent in the dragon's lair. The lineup that Silvermoon City had sent this time was quite sophisticated: the chief envoy, Messer Moonblade, was Elasdra's chief advisor and was known for his caution and composure; the deputy envoy, Torland Silverstar, was a representative of the Commercial Council and was best at assessing the commercial value of new things.

　"It seems Elasdra is quite interested in the changes at Waterdeep." Casalos put down the intelligence report and transformed into human form. "Svent, are the arrangements for the delegation complete?"

　"All arrangements have been made, my lord," the half-dragon legion commander replied respectfully. "Elder Hogville will personally oversee the reception, and accommodations will be at the guesthouse in the North Wing."

　"Very good. Remember, be polite but not overly enthusiastic." Casalos rose and straightened his clothes. "Also, make sure Piergellen and the others have enough space. Old friends always need to catch up."

　Sven smiled knowingly: "Understood. Our people will step aside when the time is right."

　In front of the North District Guest House, Elder Hogwell, a half-dragon and kobold, was leading the reception team. Although advanced in years, this elder, responsible for cultural education, was remarkably spry, and his well-tailored formal attire gave him a scholarly air. Beside him, his male drow secretary held a whiteboard, ready to jot down important information.

　The Silvermoon City procession slowly approached. Leading the way were six elven knights clad in mithril chainmail, followed by three ornately decorated carriages. Messer Moonblade alighted from the first carriage, his long silver hair shimmering in the afternoon sunlight.

　"Welcome to Waterdeep," Hogville greeted in standard Elvish. "I am Hogville, here to arrange your accommodations during your stay in Waterdeep."

　Meisel returned the greeting gracefully: "Thank you for your hospitality. The journey has been long, and I am indeed quite tired."

　"Please come with me." Hogville stepped aside to lead the way. "The room is ready, and dinner will be delivered in an hour. Please feel free to let me know if you need anything."

　After settling the delegation in, Hogville and the Drow secretary left the guesthouse. Just as they stepped out the door, they saw Pilgalen "passing by".

　"Elder Hogville," Piergellen nodded in greeting, his gaze drifting towards the guesthouse. "I heard our friends from Silvermoon City have arrived?"

　"Yes, we've just settled in." Hogville understood. "Our reception is complete, so we won't disturb your rest any longer."

　After saying this, the old dog-headed man left with his secretary. Piergelen hesitated at the door for a moment before finally knocking.

　"Methel, it's been a long time." In the drawing room, Piergaren shook hands with the moon elf. "The last time we met was at the Alliance meeting in Neverwinter."

　"It has indeed been too long." Meisel's expression relaxed considerably. "To be honest, seeing you still in Waterdeep is a relief. At least I have someone I know who can tell me what exactly happened in this city."

　The two sat down, and the servant served tea before tactfully leaving.

　"What do you want to know?" Piergellen asked bluntly.

　"Everything." Meisel abandoned diplomatic language. "A dragon ruling Waterdeep, and implementing such radical reforms in such a short time. Peel, is this normal?"

　Piergelen paused for a moment. "That's not normal. But Messer, have you ever seen a normal ruler rebuild a city destroyed by a tsunami in six months?"

　"That's true." Messer said thoughtfully. "Lady Elasdra was quite surprised by the speed of Waterdeep's reconstruction. She sent me here to see these changes for myself."

　"So what do you think?"

　"To be honest, it's beyond my expectations." Meisel looked around. "Take this guesthouse, for example. Just two months ago, this place was a wasteland, right? Now it's so well-maintained. And those factories and schools we saw when we entered the city... Did they really only take six months to build?"

　"Even shorter," Piergellen said with a wry smile. "Sometimes I feel like I'm dreaming. But that's Casalos's power. It brings not just reconstruction, but a completely new concept."

　Just then, a familiar voice came from outside the door: "Pilgalen, you're quick on your way."

　Kelben Blackstalker and Lyra Silverhand entered the drawing room. Upon seeing them, Meisel immediately rose to his feet.